


The Locket in Your Pocket.

by BigScaryDinos



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood Kink, Bloodlust, Blow Jobs, Everyone is American for no reason, Fantasizing, Half-Sibling Incest, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied poisoning, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Ramsay is his own warning, Rough Oral Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3539915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigScaryDinos/pseuds/BigScaryDinos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Domeric finds his brother. Ramsay makes a mess of things. Roose wishes he never had children at all I suppose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Locket in Your Pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> Basically everyone is American because reasons. I seemed to discovered my new favorite AU, Midwestern Bible Belt Ramsay. And I keep switching poor Domeric into fifty shades of indecisiveness. Dom? Totally ashamed of everything? Usually write Thramsay so this is a bit tame I suppose.

 

Domeric was disappointed. He hated the feeling of being so terribly let down by something. Laying sick and helpless on his bed, coughing his lungs up it seemed he was wracked with the guilt that this was _his_ fault. He just couldn’t blame it all on himself. There was something that irked him endlessly about putting his faith into somebody and that somebody just so happening to share your blood. It felt like the worst kind of betrayal.

 

Months had passed since he had convinced his father to take in his half brother. Convinced was the wrong word. He had forced his father to accept it, there would be no other way. Domeric had become a package deal for the sake of someone he hadn’t met. His ultimatum had been to take both brothers or give them both up, forever. It wouldn’t have been so difficult if the brother in question wasn’t as wild as wild could be. His father had tried to talk him out of it, tried to turn his eldest son - only son in Roose’s mind, away from such ‘uncooperative children that are no use to you or I.’ Those were the exact words he had used to describe his own son. At the time it turned Domeric’s tongue sour, just picturing his only sibling living somewhere out there without love, without a family, without a father. He knew, just knew in his heart if he brought the bastard home his father would accept him. So he had.

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

It had taken longer than he could ever imagine but he had found his half brother, hours away and living with some woman - presumably his mother. Digging around Domeric discovered his only kin had dropped out of school at twelve to be “homeschooled” but he doubted that. One look at the dingy farmhouse and the drab looking woman who inhabited such a place showed no signs of education. When Domeric drove up the gates he knew he had to save his brother. This was no place for a Bolton.

 

Polished and perfected until he was gleaming Domeric looked far out of place, much further out of place than he would have ever liked to admit as he was greeted by some woman, Ramsay’s mother. Her name slipped his mind as soon as she spoke it. Something with an R maybe. She had nothing original about her, no qualities that could make her stand out from a thousand others like her. Her hair was dry, brittle, old looking. She was wearing an apron over a thin cotton dress, like some woman from the eighteen hundreds.  As he was admitted to the kitchen he found everything around him shared the same qualities. Ancient, dirty, dusty, brittle, dry and dying.

 

“Where is he? Where is my brother?”  He couldn’t help the air of superiority in his voice. He was the knight in shining armor. She tossed her head over her shoulder towards the window. There in the impossible heat was his half brother, impossible all on his own.

 

Naked from the waist up, standing in a dingy looking shed with the doors pushed wide open, slaughtering a deer; something he had caught earlier that morning - Ramsay was pleased to inform him later. A clean cut from neck to groin was all it took for the entrails to splash audibly on the ground. Dogs barked somewhere none to far off. Cicadas hummed in the heat. Blood splashed his bare, glistening chest. Muscles rippled while he worked, his hands stained crimson to the elbow as he slaved over the carcass dangling from a hook before him. His back moved, shoulders pressing forward and back as his hands worked with a sickening kind of grace.

 

Domeric swallowed hard - his mouth dry. It felt as if the dust from around him crept into his throat, his pants suddenly uncomfortably tight as he strained against them. He leaned against the wall before sitting down in one of the few chairs around the table in the center of the room. he rested his head in his hands before realizing that he was alone in the room and thanked god. He tried to imagine his brother sitting here in the same chair, eating cornflakes out of plastic bowls decorated to look like china. He tried to picture his brother slamming the screen door and sitting on the porch on a rainy night. He tried to picture his brother doing anything, then tried to clear his brother out of his mind for a moment.

 

It didn’t last long, he sprang to his feet when he heard that dusty midwestern voice calling out in the yard. Before he knew it his brother was in the doorway. Half brother if he got technical.

 

The younger Bolton looked at the elder, icy near white eyes glinting in the room that had suddenly dropped ten degrees. What had been sweltering heat before was made both more bearable and less at the same time. Sweat trickled down the small of Domeric’s back as he extended his right hand, automatic. He was nothing if not a robot who always knew his proper courtesies. He held his hand in the air for a few seconds before looked at his brother’s hands, currently resting crossed over his midsection. They were still splattered with dark red, almost dripping.

 

Before he could pull his hand away he felt another palm pressed against his own, feeling heat waves radiate into him. His eyes scanned the body before him, gore swiped across his chest. A lazy trail of blood was making it’s way down his stomach, dripping so slowly, so sweetly. Iron filled his nostrils, and he finally looked up to the face in front of him.

 

Dark, was his first thought. There was something feral about his face. Scary almost with how perfectly terrifying it was. A spray of blood had struck his neck and jaw, leaving his face splashed with the same gore dripping off his hands. Chapped lips tipped into the hint of a smile, a smile that wasn’t reaching his eyes. His eyes were such a piercing color, clearly his best feature. Ice crept into his veins just looking directly at them. Plastered to his forehead were dark curls - damp with sweat.  Droplets of blood clung to the strands and dripped down his face, when one finally arrived by his mouth his tongue darted out to meet it.

 

“So. You’re my half brother. Dom-en-eric.”

 

“Actually just Domeric. Dom if you want.” His words felt wrong somehow, the younger Bolton popped the tip of his tongue out, to rest at the corner of his mouth, his eyes strained.

 

“Right. I’m Ramsay Snow.” He finally shook the hand he was holding and released it, leaving Domeric to a handful of matted red, sticky between his digits. He wanted to bring it to his own lips and taste it, just to let the metal coat his throat. Inappropriate, he thought holding his fingers spread out over the table. Dime sized puddles appeared under his extended hand. He couldn’t turn from his brother for a moment. He was helplessly afraid Ramsay would bolt like a cornered dog and run as far away as he could. More than anything he wanted the ache just below his stomach to stop.

 

“Ramsay.” He tested, tasting the name. It felt right. He was destined to find his brother, the one with the low slung dirty jeans, the one with the jagged white scar just above his right eye, the one who was standing here looking at him like he had three heads. “I want you to come back with me. This is no place for you.” That got him. His eyes widened if only for a second, his youth showed through his mask of stone and sarcasm.

 

“You know that by what exactly? Looking at me. That’s all you keep doing.” His words were poison tipped arrows, but they missed the mark. Years had trained Domeric for being calm, being steady. Patience was something his father had taught him long ago. Something Ramsay would need to learn once they went home.

 

“I just want to get to know my only brother, I -”

 

“Half.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Half brother. I am your half brother.” Ramsay’s drawl struck Domeric, who was accustomed to some attitude but not to interruptions, or to corrections. “You know, with different last names, since your father refused to bless me with his presence in my life after he fucked my mom. He picked your mother, guess her cunt was tighter.”

 

“Well, yes, you are my half brother. You’ve never met him?”

 

“Him? The guy that stuck his prick in her for the night?” His head tilted towards the window in the same exact manner his mother had minutes ago. His mother was outside hanging clothes on a line inches from where the heart of the deer lay in the dirt.  “No. I’ve never wanted to meet him. I guess he’s visited when I was little once or twice. I don’t remember. I don’t want to remember. I don’t want him or need him in my life.”

 

“You’ve never made a mistake?” Domeric said back, trying to keep his voice level. Ramsay was having no issue with that. His smile grew larger, showing off his shark teeth. His mask back in place.

 

“Oh I’m a mistake now?”

 

“I never meant - “

 

“You know, I’m close to telling you to fuck off. Very close. I don’t care who you are or what right it gives you into thinking you can stroll in here and interrupt my life. “  Ramsay’s eyes glittered with spite as he crossed his arms again and leaned against the doorframe. Domeric calculated in his mind the tone he would need to use, the exact wording to hook him.

 

“You don’t want to be here. I know you already. You are a Bolton. I saw you out there. You don’t belong here,  you want to do what you want to do, be away from under that bitch’s thumb.”

 

“She’s my mot - “

 

“How old are you Ramsay?”

 

“Sixteen.” His tongue out again, like a dog.

 

“You know as well as I do you want to do something with your life other than to shovel pig shit until your bones disintegrate. I can show you a whole different world. Money. Power. The guy that stuck his prick in your mother, well having his blood makes us very lucky. Very privileged. We can do what we want. You don’t need to cut apart deer little brother.” The lilting quality in his voice was toxic, it was deadly. It seeped like a gas into every pore in Ramsay’s body, every inch of him was swelling with lust. Lust for what could be a new life, a different life, and in his mind a very similar life in some ways. He brought a dark tipped finger to his mouth and sucked it clean, this time his icy eyes met the matching pair.

 

“When do we leave?”

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

And they were off within a few hours. It wasn’t a tearful goodbye, but his mother seemed annoyed to have had her only free worker stolen from her. That’s all he was to her really, Dom thought to himself as he drove his new brother home, a piece of meat she could use. It was hard, thinking about his brother though. Even when dressed in a pair of clean pants and a faded grey shirt, cleaned to the best of his ability to keep the stench of manure and sweat off him all Domeric could think about was the musky scent that assaulted him at the first meeting. All he could think about was those muscles, pulling his tanned skin taut. He could feel those fingers wrapped around his own, the strong grip, the calloused tips, the torn bitten down nails.

 

He tried desperately to focus on the road and not the imagines of his brother, the passenger beside him -who had begun to chat nervously about the deer he had caught. Domeric just caught the end of a long winded monologue about how to get around property laws when Dom cleared his mind for a moment.

 

“ - and I swear I know those woods better than half the fuckers who own them. Who owns woods. Honest? What a waste of a good thing, the woods should be for whoever needs them.  I need them, I need to hunt and run. I need it.” He looked up through matted hair, still clinging to his face, in a low voice, cracked and almost a whisper he finished his thought. “I crave it.”

 

Domeric needed to get this boy home before other cravings took over.

 

\------------------------------------------------

  


His father was obviously less than pleased.

 

“He’s an animal.” His father proclaimed after the first family meal together. Ramsay devoured everything set in front of him with his hands and teeth, tearing into a chicken breast like a wild dog. He drank down a glass of water using both hands on the glass. He was like a man starved for years. He almost licked his plate, and would have if Dom hadn’t taken it away. It was enough for Roose to lose his appetite completely, taking his eldest into the kitchen.

 

“I don’t want him here.”

 

“Father, he’s your son. You can’t not want him.”

 

“He’s my bastard. Your mother is rolling in her grave seeing this mess you’ve made.” Words like blades cut into his heart. Thinking of his mother at all sent Domeric into a tailspin more often than not, but tonight he had to be stronger. He had a someone to protect. If Ramsay was kicked out where would he go, what would he do. Domeric pushed forward.

 

“Well Mom’s not here, he is. He was living on a farm, they probably didn’t even feed him there.”

 

“Are you blind? Just look at him, take a good look, he’s been eating well I’d wager. He looks fine to me, and if you’d be so kind as to take him back tomorrow morning or tonight if you can get the mutt into the damn car.”

 

“No. I’m not taking him back, I’m going to take care of him.”  Brotherly love flittered through his chest, butterfly wings pattering at his rib cage. That wasn’t all though. Watching his mouth work, his fingers dripping with grease, his lips so full and his eyes. Those eyes that were always watching. It held him down. He liked it quite a bit. He liked the way those eyes made his head swim. He liked how his brother lowered his head and would gaze up at him through the dark curtain of hair between them. His brother was dangerous, he could feel it in the way his eyes burned, the way his lips curled into a snarl more often than a smile.

 

“Then take care of him” His father stormed off, up the stairs and into his study to waste the hours away working. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered. As long as his insisting was done for the night.

 

When Domeric returned into the dining room Ramsay had finished his plate, his fingers reaching for the untouched portion of chicken on his fathers. He glanced up once, nonchalantly as if nothing in the world were wrong.

 

“Glad he’s gone, somebody shoved a stick up his cunt or is he always like this?” He snagged the chicken away, dropping it to his own plate and began to feast again.

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

“You’re going to sleep here tonight. Father would rather you stay here instead of the guest bedroom.” Because you stink of shit and dirt. Because he doesn’t trust you. Because he expects you to grab his fine silverware and bolt. Because you were right, he thinks you are a mistake. Because he wants nothing to do with you. Ramsay was smart enough to understand what was unsaid better than the actual words being spoken. He could put two and two together and the results were fine. More than fine to be honest.

 

Now he was in the basement, his brother just an arms length away. His cot pressed closer and closer to the king sized bed his brother was planning to rest in. Ramsay slept almost naked, skin and sweat and sometimes boxers if they were clean enough. There was no air conditioning in the house he lived in since birth. He could only crack the windows and strip down.

 

Domeric slept in cotton. He would tug on his faded favorite red shirt, the one with the Captain Morgan logo across it, so faint you could barely make out the shapes. He pulled on his sweat pants in his bathroom, suddenly nervous to be around his brother, especially when his brother was watching him as closely as he had been since dinner. Especially when his brother was nearly naked.

 

The second he was done he rearranged himself, pressing his cock down. Obey, he thought, trying vainly to will himself into softness. Nothing could help. Finally he resigned himself to just pretending things were normal. This was his room, Ramsay was his guest. He would just crawl into bed, flick out the lights and they would sleep. His over imaginative mind would rest when he did.

 

Ramsay had other thoughts. A new brother, older, with piercing eyes like his. A shock of straight brown hair that fell just to his shoulders. He had a certain sternness to his voice when he tried. Of course the most wonderful thing was the way his big brother’s pants got tighter when Ramsay dared to look at him. It seemed no matter what he did it was enough to stir something inside Domeric just enough to turn his face a faded pink and seem hopelessly out of air. He loved how his half brother looked when he lowered his face and gazed up, subservient and so thankful. It made Dom’s head puff up like a balloon.

 

How his big brother had come so valiantly to save him from a life of servitude. To snatch him up from his life and bring him back to this big house with maids and cooks and people just waiting for a mess to clean up. Ramsay did love making messes. He did love when people admired him, when people looked at him and saw something desirable. His brother was a combination of admiration and something he wished so badly to turn into a terrible mess. He wanted so badly to shatter the thin layer of composer his brother tried to use as an armor. He wanted to peel off the strips of self control until there was nothing left.

 

And so sometime around two am, when the night is the darkest and the moon is the fullest, Ramsay crawled so carefully into his brother’s bed.

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

Domeric was having a fabulous dream, he was on a horse, riding in the woods. He could feel the horse under him, could smell the clean scent of the woods around him, he could relax as the sun beat down on his skin, warming him. Then the woods turned dark, the trees crowded overhead, the yellow rays blocked out until it was dark as night. His horse stumbled over roots in the darkness, whining in his blindness. When Domeric went to calm him, to run his fingers over his horse’s mane, then his thick neck, he could feel an opening in the skin. A thin slit that grew beneath his fingers as the horse melted away into the ground under him. The horse screamed as he died, melting away to nothingness. Domeric’s throat tightened. Warm and sticky and so sour smelling he was laying on the forest floor in a puddle with his mount gone, but he felt something there, still resting between his legs.

 

Something new and raw and unreal coming out of the muck beneath him, the darkness swallowing all the sound around them. Finally he could see something, deadly and vicious, the smell of blood filled his head as he spotted gleaming white shark teeth coming closer and closer. Then it was on him - he was terrified it would bite him and attack tearing him to shreds. Instead he felt a tugging, gentle almost around his hips. He lifted his hips slowly, feeling naked as his pants were taken off. Icy cold tendrils ran up his stomach,  to his chest. He felt something dry and cracked against his thigh, touching him and teasing him.

 

He woke with Ramsay kneeling under the pink sheets, between his knees, his hand resting on Dom’s chest. Domeric flushed, his achingly hard cock already being worked by Ramsay’s capable mouth, his tongue doing things no girl has ever done to him before.  His lips tight, his throat tighter he brought his brother to the edge time and time again, then let him slip back. Domeric was ashamed, terribly frightened and wanting at the same time, his hips thrusting against the back of Ramsay’s mouth. He wanted so badly to fight it, stop this insanity. Then Ramsay would look up in that way, with those fucking eyes, staring at him between dark curls and darker lashes. Domeric’s mind would empty, every thought evaporating like smoke until there was nothing left but the warmth against his hardness and the eyes that held him down, moaning.

 

Just as he felt he could take no more, just as he was inches away from coming, Ramsay stopped. His lips still tightly wrapped around the angry red head of his brother’s cock. Domeric looked down, feeling those eyes pierce him, holding him down like ropes. Lips opened to reveal those dangerous teeth, before he let the cock slip through his lips with a sickening popping noise. Domeric felt the whining in the back of his throat.

 

“Why did you stop?” Panting, not begging, no begging. This was terribly awfully wrong. It was the only thing he had thought about since meeting him. Even as he thought that he knew it was lie. He was also thinking about bending his brother over the bedside and shoving his glistening length into him. There would be no stopping then. He wanted to bite down into his shoulder, burst the skin like a grape between his teeth and taste him while he fucked him.

 

“I want you to tell me what you want, I want to hear you say it.”

 

“It?” Domeric’s mind reeled, he would not beg. Boltons do not beg, not ever.

 

“Say it. Just say what you want me to do.”

 

“Keep going?” Domeric tried, his words sticking like peanut butter to the roof of his mouth.

 

“No, I want specifics.” It wasn’t until just now that Dom could see just how small his brother was. Built proper of course, but he was so small, shorter and with a fuller face that showed a trace of childhood even if he’d never been allowed to have one. The scar above his eye, the hint of a purple bruise around his neck, the way his lips were so dry when they brushed against the tenderest skin of Domeric’s thigh. He had barely a bit of stubble on his chin, and that too itched against his leg as he tried so desperately to maintain eye contact. It was a game. Ramsay thought he was in power, but Domeric was. He did not take lightly to thoughts of submission. It took a second for his fingers to catch in the back of that damp hair and press his cock back into Ramsay’s mouth, gagging him only for a second. He thrust his cock deeper into the throat he held captive.

 

“I want to come in your mouth, Snow.” Domeric groaned, “You’re going to make me come in your throat and you’re going to swallow every drop.” His fingers pressed down, holding him at the base of his cock, watching his brother’s face turn a dark shade of red, but never fighting. He just felt the way he was controlling his throat to tighten, the rapid swallowing, the quiet humming low in his throat of contentment even as he felt his air escape him. He could almost see a sick smile on his face.

  


Then came one last trick. Ramsay inched one finger, a thick calloused digit, wet with sweat and saliva, just a bit into Domeric’s ass. He hadn’t expected it, had never actually taken anything near his ass. Pain bit into his pleasure, but somewhere under all the haze it felt good. He face fucked Ramsay relentlessly, closer - closer. The sudden feeling of two fingers threatened to take his orgasm away, but nothing could stop and instead the pain from the sudden penetration was just one of the fireworks going off in his head. His balls tightened and released, he felt himself let go.

Ramsay couldn’t refuse if he wanted to, he just wriggled his fingers like snakes and let his brother flood his stomach with come. Sour and salty and coating his throat as he wanted it to go on just a few moments longer.

 

His own cock ignored and throbbing, forgotten between his legs at the end of the bed. When Domeric was finally done, finally sighing with relief Ramsay untangled himself from the sheets and legs wrapped around him. He inched towards the edge of the bed and just when he almost fell off he stood up. Finally planting himself back down on his own cot. His back to his brother so he’d never see how close he had been to spilling his own seed in his underwear. .

 

“Goodnight, Dom-en-eric.” He pronounced painfully slowly, his drawl making the name even more disfigured. . Instead of correcting him he heard the rustling of sheets. He could still taste the come in his mouth. Would taste it even while he was eating breakfast in the morning he assumed. It wouldn’t be a bad thing. Finally when he thought his  brother had nodded off he heard Dom’s voice, sleepy sounding and low.

 

“Goodnight, Snow.”

 


End file.
